Feet Smell Fromnylons

SIN CITY BROILER

If you ever decide to go to Las Vegas, be sure to arrive at night, and the magic of the first meeting will last longer and the neon lights and neon signs allow large swallow, almost with gratitude, the world of cardboard and plastic that, under the protection of the shadows, the sound of slot machines and the curves of women who smile from generously displayed large posters that abound everywhere, lies a stunning machine-created under the aegis of the mafia, the blessing of dollars and lulled by the music of Sinatra, so that tens of thousands who visit every day squander what they have (and did not have) in this "Disneyland for adults" as someone explained to me.

arrived at noon, big mistake (I was dragged by the willingness of my neighbors-charming and hospitable sons of Mexico, who pass the test, always difficult, always fascinating, the journey together and coexistence-). Daylight, which makes the Nevada desert looks spectacular with red spots, is, however, very bad combination for the palaces of plastic, brass pyramids, sculptures, porcelain and all the paraphernalia made to look impressive covered by artificial lights, but unable to resist the kiss of reality.

fainted from hunger (the nearly four hours late, took flight and dream of dawn did little to my good mood and that "a matter of illusion with which I was warned when I started my criticism corrosive) and that, after completing the paperwork and leave your bags each in their rooms, got out and started walking to a hotel "is here no more" and we got twenty minutes to cross streets and bridges, escalators and up mechanical crossing with beggars best sneakers mine and avoid tripping over a hundred thousand other people who were going there who knows where, many with a beer in hand.

The hotel, like all the hotels around, it was awesome, huge, bulky, but not smart (so it seemed, after a constant in this city where everything "appears", but nothing "is" where the cult of forms has shifted completely to the core and their meanings). We had come to lunch "to the most expensive hotel in Las Vegas", as I reported, it was all lights, slot machines, long corridors, guards guards dressed discreetly disguised as civilians, and many people moving, playing and betting. "It has the best buffet" and not mistaken. We arrived to an environment where no one will glamor corresponding charged dollars before proceeding to one of the many great halls that made up the place, we were assigned seats and "turn to serve." What I saw was almost an epiphany, I found that for fat is the same as for a child a toy store at their disposal. He had everything and, in disproportionate numbers, huge, exaggerated (like everything in this country where the shortcomings of the soul are filled with the excesses of the body). Ate infamous and obscene. Mea culpa.

Passing hours, and give the sun into the shadows of the night, the lights that illuminated everything with its thousand colors, were drawing the face that I knew of this city, like the painted face of his dancers and waitresses, the face accommodated for the photos, the poses and flashes . The city that surprises the world from the movie screens or TV and tempts us all with its magnificence and the ability to become millionaires in a stroke of luck that allows us to join the list of those traveling by jet private and stay in the presidential suite until another stroke of (mis) fortune in charge of middle-class return to reality with accounts payable, credit mortgages and cards that are ballooning on behalf of a new financing (luck is a currency and as such, has two sides, but I forget).

hotels at night and shine in them-purpose and only true personality of this city, the casinos become crowded space that looks, each more exorbitant and stupid screen machine that promises I will make you rich while sucking, like a vampire and post-modern cyber, virtual dollars credit card. Something

attracted wide attention, I do not know if I disappointed or excited me, "the dealer , contrary to what one imagines, are older people. When one thinks of Las Vegas, in the light of the pictures, it is difficult to assume that they serve are young guys with tuxedo to yeimsbon and stunning blonde hiding a knife in the wrong league covering miniskirt. Nothing that abound, on the contrary, ladies and gentlemen faced have been handing out cards boringly two or three decades ago and who think more in retirement than to leave "to follow" when their shift ends at five o'clock.

Prostitution is a crime, of course, but it is not to advertise, for that they are "requested" that I won a legal battle by the city government can work freely. They are all Latino-looking (do not remember seeing Africans, Asians or gringos) placed at the end of streets, bridges, streets, where space permits, and there dealt a card with pictures of stunning women (race, age and various forms) that offer their services for a few bucks. Not only that, in free newspaper dispensers (in other cities are used to put the inserts from supermarkets or the magazine that gives the town) had just published, in full color, with an unimaginable number of women in this or fee which will "discreetly" to your hotel. Say it Sin City is, but I think that is different from any other city, perhaps more obvious and less cynical, but no more sinful.

However, there were no large buildings, or the luminous casinos or shows millionaires, or the prostitutes advertised or nocturnal bustle, as I say, is endless, so I left the clearest impression of the city. As I've always said, "places are the people" and to me Las Vegas is Mary, the hairdresser of Mexican parents born in San Francisco, with whom I spoke at length about being immigrants everywhere and on its third single than lets go "when want and wherever "Yessuf, the driver, an Ethiopian who came simpatiquísmo twenty years as a football player, he married a white woman (white woman whant only my money ) that the divorce was left with the house children and the guest house, a cheerful and optimistic man, John, another taxi driver, an elderly gentleman, he gringo from New York where the rents are very high, "he moved with his wife to the city in the desert" for save a little, because the pension is low "but at parties traveling to see family, or Hassan, the Moroccan who was selling neckties at a store that was broken tops all" because is no business for the owners, when closed it will open another, under another name, because they are the ones who never lose, but he was sure to get a job after twenty years of experience "ever in Las Vegas."

They are ordinary beings, those who work every day because the fantasy of this huge and expensive playground work and we give away, all that we seek not know what, that happiness is not the illusion that it is possible to have fun amidst props castles, pyramids and statues, plastic cardboard, deafened, the soul and worldly concerns- by ringing (electronic and artificial) of the many coins you earn to lose it later (along with half or retirement) away by the vain, ephemeral and delicious illusion of fortune.

Normocytic Hypochromic Anaemia

DAY DE PUEBLA

seems that the last two or three thousand years old civilizations that inhabited the region of Mesoamerica, had and maintained the habit of remembering their dead one day and there were the tricks to "bring" the other world gifts and meals that-somehow-they pointed the way back home. Product of religious syncretism, after the conquest, the party is confused with two Catholic celebrations, the All Saints Day and the Commemoration of All Souls, for the one and two of November, and today, (un) thanks to globalization, the ceremonies begin to mix again with the party of "jaluhüín" gringo.

No one better than Martin to walk the streets of Mexico City, so I called. He passed me in his green car with tinted windows ("is that it seems an official car and nobody messes with us," he told me months ago, when I landed in Mexico and wanted the chance to be the taxi driver who picked me up the airport for the first time), was, as always smiling and loved the idea of "around town" in the "Day of the Dead."

"We go to a cemetery, Martin, but first, I invite you to eat where you choose, though, that is meat," he said as he recalled that "no body no lunch", a wonderful phrase I taught once a friend and now-blame and forgetfulness while I repeat like a family tradition.

Martin did not hesitate and will fly to the south, a few minutes later we arrived at any street, "we are in Xochimilco" he said, parked the car and got out. A ten meters had a large booth with a sign immense that read "pork." "Here we had breakfast with my wife," he told me confident as we sat on stools in short supply around the post. The show was awesome, pork - poor thing! - Was divided, separated and cooked parts insatiable diners asked the cook. This, grab a piece of bofe (lung) and a master butcher jerky on a large trunk that served as a table for cuts. The corresponding portion placed in a block of corn, onion and parsley bathed, and is delivered to the customer who, in turn, smeared it with hot sauce, salsa cactus and chile ("this is the habanero, be careful," Martin told me.) My companion devoured several assorted tacos, which, I explained, contained, at random, filler, solid, crop, ear or other part of the slaughtered, while I, more traditional, I dispatched with his hands, like my ancestors, delicious Chamorro (the pork leg).

Well fed, heading to the cemetery. The traffic was unbearable around (and that's nothing, between last night and this morning there was a lot more people "), parked on the street (" ten dollars ") and walked the few blocks that separated us from the cemetery. Hundreds of people wandered there, at the entrance, dozens of vendors offering flowers, food, toys, liquor and a funny and colorful skulls (the "calaca" or the "Catrina", whose image became popular thanks to the wonderful lithographs of Joseph Guadalupe Posada, the artist who made these crazy immortal skeletons worshipful powerful characters or those who accompanied with a "skull" which was nothing more than a verse-couplet, quatrain or tenth, always anonymous, with which satirized the Time powerful "killing", even metaphorically). What happened

within the cemetery was really fascinating, each grave was clean, colorful, decorated with flowers and a series of objects that were, in life, important for the deceased. For example, on the tombstone of someone who had to be a singer, was a guitar, a pair of boots, a cowboy hat and, of course, two bottles of tequila. About five mariachis sang "Everlasting Love" by Juan Gabriel ("and there are many old rancheras speaking on the subject of the dead," Martin told me) and "shared" with the deceased agave distillate. It was not the only case, several graves had their mariachis and the cemetery was a symphony of harmonious voices and out of tune. At other graves were included entire families, dog-sitting at the marble slab, eating tacos, drinking tequila or simply talking. I was surprised to see that even some of the headstones recently, family members are or were sad lamented the contrary, talking animatedly, as if it were a family gathering in the living room. In the midst of such traditional ceremonies did not cease to amaze children dressed as Dracula, Frankenstein, or witches, carrying a plastic pumpkin in hand ("made in china") demanded some money "for my calaverita." Our tour continued

in the magnificent flower market in Xochimilco, passed by and saw the hundreds of pots containing the famous "marigold" or dead flower, colorful, sprouted, beautiful, with shades ranging from light yellow to orange on, fragrant and beautiful flowers at this time not only decorate the graves (with the "lion's claw" or "velvet") but also the altars in almost all houses are raised with a picture of who is remembered, along with offerings as varied as bread of the dead, sugar skulls and chocolate, water, tequila, a garment of the deceased and candles to guide the soul on its way back home.

Finally, aware of the impossibility of the task to go downtown by car, we rushed to the Metro-that fabulous road network in Mexico carrying almost daily to five million people, leave the car at a shopping mall and the station " Doctors "we climbed towards" Fine Arts. " When you exit the subway the show we found was wonderful. Almost all downtown streets were closed to traffic and thousands, tens of thousands of people walking down the tracks, whole families, friends, children dressed as "American", "darks", platoons of people (and lost up to half punk with a purple crest impressive), came and went. Means exhausted, we reached the main square and the tide was impressive there, twenty or thirty thousand people walked, calm and orderly, traveling, observing, photographing and admiring the dozens of altars and offerings to the various institutions and delegations, in a traditional competition, had built around more than four acres of endless space, exceeded in size only by the Beijing Tiananmen and Moscow's Red.

The day, exhausting but essential, he concluded, "and without Martin the next day in the theater Hidalgo, seeing, as tradition dictates, staging of "Don Juan Tenorio" by José Zorrilla. A lot has happened since it opened in 1863 in Mexico of English drama in the Castle of Chapultepec, and with the assistance of the Emperor Maximilian, and many versions, serious and comic and deplorable quality, memorable and forgotten, there have been through the years, however, people still attending, every first week of November, the chilling dialogue with the dead who engages Don Juan, his conviction and finally redemption through the love of Doña Inés, so chaste, so pure as virgin as ever.

The country never ceases to amaze, this holiday season all citizens, almost without exception and regardless of where they are in the unjust social pyramid, make a high, remember those who left and share with them, in cemeteries, on the altars with offerings, rituals, songs and drama, memories and emotions, nostalgia and dreams, old news and projects in a ritual that, contrary to what a superficial analyst might conclude, is not a cult of death but to life, a song to hope, a celebration of human existence, a time-reflective and irreverent, to stop, remember where we came from, plan where to go and tell the bald, the calaca, the Catrina, "today do not celebrate, today we celebrate what we were and what we are, today I noticed, in the light of our love and our traditions, not terrorize us, not rule, you are useless, never prevail and never forget your shadow will rule over us. "

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DEAD PEOPLE NOT A BLESSED VIRGIN

When Alvaro invited me to a gathering of poets in Puebla, the only name I referred to the Talavera pottery (of English origin but Mexicanized long ago), the China Puebla (representative of the country's popular Beauty Pancho Villa, but the most demanding say that just about women, "the center" -) and the mole poblano (sauce sublime tastes and strong stomachs, which consists of a mixture of chocolate, chiles, seeds and spices in the measurements and proportions that only well-known chefs, having inherited the family secret for generations).

have to be there, walk around this warm and friendly, walk the cobblestone streets of downtown, visit the great cathedral, walk down the perfect base or be dazzled by the magnificent library Palafox (left by Juan de Palafox y Mendoza, bishop eighteenth Puebla and viceroy of New Spain) to understand the charm of this city that is home to over a million and half people without have lost their poise and dignity that give the ancestry of the nearly five centuries.

told me I was close, that's nearly eighty miles that separate Federal District Puebla was done in ninety minutes, however, visit a few weeks before, the people of Chipilo (a delicious Italian colony, and whose vicissitudes of its bitter-talk a day), just eight miles from Puebla land, and try to pass along the avenue on the outskirts of Zaragoza City in which spaces built a huge aerial crossing of roads, deterred me from undertaking such an adventure. If accompanied, the two or three hours you can take to go through there at times congestion, are poorly tolerated, it alone would have been madness, an insanity which was not ready, left to my neurosis in the middle of the road.

"The best of Mexico buses leave the airport," said someone. Not true. At least not the best that I've gone (those who go to Guadalajara are higher, of course, is that the road is four times longer). However, there are bad.

Five in the morning, wake up. Six, take a taxi to the airport. Seven part the bus to Puebla. After nine came to "four East", the particular station that line is very near the center. "No, do not walk, several blocks, take a taxi, yes, of those, blacks, do not pay more than thirty dollars. " I paid forty. The hotel was one that was, is, it was swanky, it was five star, was famous, today is a ghost, a pale reflection of itself, a delightful spot in decline which does not have enough remote controls for all televisions of all rooms. That weekend due to party, sold out. However, sad and all, flaws in the bathroom with no lights lit, with old paintings, carpets worn and soiled linens and towels, kept a certain dignity that moved me, like the sign announcing the "heliport" or that of "indoor pool and timed" never found it.

If something was as wonderful was its location, just three blocks from the square of the city and, as I had warned Álvaro, "very close to the university" where the meeting would take place of poets who brought me up there (besides the price per night, which was reasonable but the kindness and the waste of the organizers made me not cost me a dime).

I arrived and I realized my immense naivete, I had the phone Álvaro. "Never mind, I thought," I send you a mail. " As the hotel was five stars, according to announced in the twenty sites I checked, I was not worried about that topic. "I will go to Bisnes center," he said and walked to the counter where only a few minutes ago a distracted manager had treated me kindly and I had given my room. "Sorry, sir, do not have," said the man with his old-fashioned uniform and a smile crystallized by time, but added hopefully, "in the corner is a cibercofi."

course, "the corner" meant three blocks away, a quarter of three quarter where they had installed an Internet kiosk with old machines, whose speed reminded me of the Apple IIe with 286K of RAM that I started writing in 1986 (I think I realized more than twenty years that separated me from the room of computation and the gringo that, half mad, not taught, was what troubled me most of that place.) It took me half an hour writing the two lines that announced my presence in Puebla, and not because he was nervous about the event to which I had been invited but in the meantime because the screen froze, restarted the record twice, the keyboard locked a dozen times and I witnessed, along with half a dozen other students who had entered the premises, a morbid file opened a boy, and we all saw ecstatic, in which, to warn against the dangers of speeding, they were really nasty scenes of parties brains, guts exposed and do not know what other nice things that the kids next to me as if it held were a comedy.

I lingered in front of the machine fooling around with the hope that Alvaro could read me. It was in vain. Bored, I took the road back to the hotel and, as I shall not hurry, I could see the cobblestone streets, old and centenarian houses, traffic polluted everything, people walking the streets almost casually, as if they knew in that city that day was inaugurated a meeting of poets ...

No, they did not. Street asked "do you know which location the credentials delivered?" And the man who did not stop his step as he looks at me a lunatic, I thought it was very generic and insisted with a woman carrying a grocery bag "Excuse me, ma'am, may I indicate where the meeting takes place of poets?", this time the noble Puebla stopped, looked at me with curiosity and I responded by asking, "No, young man, I have no idea, Where will join poets? ". Do not let discouragement took hold me and I walked the streets to the hotel. Neither of the two buttons on the door had no idea and sent me "to counter" there, a woman claimed had been stolen because the portfolio against an unflinching concierge told him that he had asked "the manager" and that he assured him "that was not lost anything," next door, the telephone talking animatedly to someone who unmistakably was not a client, and only a few minutes later came the man who had allowed me "Chek" in the morning, several hours earlier than indicated in the regulations which was, as always, behind the door the room. I explained what happened and said "do not worry, the hotel is full of poets," I asked, encouraged, where registration was and I said "I have no idea, is not in the hotel," I questioned him about any news left by the organizers, "No, do not have that information," he finally asked, on the verge of despair, to advise me, "ah, that's easy, go to college, is three blocks ...."

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LORETO! RENT

After frustrated search first and the least we had no intention of starting again with the process of walking through the Federal District, but was "voluntary" (Such as soldiers in the movies, "we need volunteers for a dangerous mission ..." uncomfortable silence, perfect, you, you and you, good luck, the country will recognize them ") and, almost without realizing it, I was in a plane to Mexico.

The routine was the same even though we knew that, for a strategic issue, not live in the north. She would perform their functions, for which we were moving offices, in future they would be in not know what Hill South (and, of course, as life is determined to give the contras, was responsible for getting a job in which I do not know north hill, and sometimes, when traffic is complicated and I'm already two hours behind the wheel trying to get home, I begin to question why not study more geography in school.) The orders were clear "in the south, the right price and ... the one you like." Yes, sir.

The appointment with the imperturbable Frida would begin "very early", at nine o'clock. So I enjoyed the relaxation bit obscene unconscious and five-star hotel thanks to the corporate rate, I was staying.

"We have a busy schedule," he said, and will fly to the south where we waited several meetings. I met several women engaged in the business of renting houses, all very formal, all very nice, all very them, working almost bored, almost disinterested, most women who release their useless days showing houses to prospective tenants and will surely spend the commission in "Antara", this monument to the unreality, with luxury shops whose prices astronomical, invite the majority to walk through the corridors looking cabinets while, in reality, it will fly to the movies is there to enjoy the illusion of accommodations for only ten dollars (yes, these cinemas, "platinum" he called, are a delight of which I will speak ever).

The truth is that we traveled all morning many houses in the south, of all kinds, in every way, in every price. Again the rule is fulfilled and the ones I liked were out of any human budget. "These girls, who do not understand, I told them that the budget is less and no more, why not more, right?" "No, dear Frida, is no more." And so we kept walking.

Around noon we meet Martha, a nice lady, I would be starting his fifties, was noticeable, professional runner. Houses knew that we would see, had a list with details, location, price and other details. As it was easier to go in one car, Frida left the car and the three head toward destinations that the schedule established. We do not know, six or seven houses and then Martha said "we can stop to have a coffee" and Frida answered, addressing me, always friendly, always maternal, "I do not know if you want to stop, or prefer to end the day houses ". I do not drink coffee that nothing but the day seems to me that hybrid is a cappuccino decaf, no cream, no sugar, sweetened with such wonderful and carcinogenic polvitos with which we are overweight the idea of \u200b\u200bbeing outwitting the balance as we fattened the bill, fierce and relentless, our future oncologist, "I, I ..." I said, doubting between my fill and wanted it to end the day, "better still." So we continue and we do not know how many home more, many more rooms, how many more dining rooms, kitchens many, many more owners, many neighborhoods, much more!

That afternoon, evening, arrived at the hotel exhausted, determined not to move anymore, to not move any more of the six meters from the room where I was. I went to the shower, I let the water, abundant in this city, everything wet. My body is exhausted, my temper, my supreme boredom, my homicidal ideas, everything. I jumped on the bed and let myself be lulled by the dialogue unintelligible to me I do not know what movie I do not know what language (that of being monolingual with grotesque splash of another language, has, at times, their advantages).

up early the next morning. Was set at seven to nine would only Frida for me, so I decided to take it out on the buffet that the hotel offered "included" in the cost of the room. Up early worth it.

always punctual, was Frida. I dedicate it all day to see houses with Martha, "she is the most houses have achieved is very good at her job." How many saw? I do not know, "fifteen, twenty, more? And I have no idea. Just tired as I remember crossing the Sahara expedition with no company but a dried gourd. We walked across the South, I wish I had been a ride! Looking at the "Guia Roji" looking for references streets, trying to get an idea of \u200b\u200ban endless city remained a mystery to me but had exhausted all resources on the Internet looking for maps, details, explanations. We found a house that fully met our expectations, hummmm, the price exceeded a little, yet "we can negotiate," and would be the two in the afternoon and said "we have to stop for a moment" and the two ladies looked at me strangely and happy. In the corner (wonders of this Latin ours) had a warehouse. We went, we took a drink (soda Mexican name) and cumin us a cake (which was a chocolate cake that I had fallen very well, but the Mexican Peruvian referred sandwiches, we all know, to tame " sandwich castizo). That afternoon we saw a few houses and the day ended, like the previous one, in the shower, bed and cooing and incomprehensible foreign dialogue in the cable.

The next day I come again with the buffet. Martha started shooting and was with us until one evening when, finally, and after three days, finished cuchusientasmil see their houses which two or three came in the form, size, location and price, which were looking for. At that time, when the woman, exhausted as we left us, Frida asked "how do I get to Loreto?" Martha gave him directions and told him "whose homes, do the square?", "Yes" , Frida replied, "hmmm, I do not worthwhile," a icy knife cut the silence was, well, anything, will send "and left. Getting

was not easy. We went through a shopping center because I have been told that it is easier here, "and we got lost in the parking lot, police recovered thanks to a path, we climbed a ramp and headed for the door, automatic card did not work," how strange if there are fifteen minute window, but no, they were not. So, sir, get off, realizing he had no coins, change the ticket at the pharmacy, go back to the machine, pay and go directly to a gate whose immense arches announced condominium.

not bore you more. A runner waiting for us. Just had a home. Only in that neighborhood. At this condo ordinary houses, not too big or too small, or too comfortable or too uncomfortable with neighboring normal middle-class like us, young couples, bikes on the doors, a generous garden, a small roundabout, ordinary cars, dogs and noisy children playing in its streets (well, nothing is perfect, man Herod). I saw it and I decided.

that she still failed to travel, to visit the same five houses (the best of the fifty that I visited) and I called and told me "live in Loreto."

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Nothing more cumbersome, torturer, demoralizing, heavy, annoying, tiresome, boring and depressing for those who are to move to another country to look for a house when you have no idea of \u200b\u200bwhat the city, how the media work transport, how complicated is the traffic, how long are the distances, which are the roads, what are the shortcuts, what routes, what a way to manage the premises, where are the shopping malls, museums, theaters universities, the simple and easy "Chinese Corner", which in my country were on every street until it opened supermarkets and were killed by drowning them with offers to them, small entrepreneurs in fragile budgets, could not compete -.

When one is coming to a country completely unknown there is no way to feel safe, there is no way of knowing what is coming to a good decision when choosing a place to live and must be submitted to expert advice who, by the grace of corporate policies, have been charged with "relocatable" (anglicized quite confusing more reminiscent of a mad topped or recurrent purporting to attack rather than the simple "move" or "relocation" that refers). In our case we were fortunate to have Frida, a Mexican lady was super nice of those oppressive searches, adrenaline intense days at the wheel of his Audi while casually walked from south to north, labyrinthine streets, endless and confusing, the District Federal.

"The perfect home is always the budget is exceeded, the universal law that no one should forget the time out to find room, ergo, be content with who is right or condénate around the city you go to live until syncope finished your patience, your calm and you.

When we arrived, she and I, Mexico, We stayed at the twenty-fifth floor of a hotel in the capital and my question "Is it safe to pass an earthquake at this point?" Mother Nature responded that night with a five degree temblorcito began with a "stop moving your feet" , followed with a "I'm moving me" and ended with the stoic statement "either way, hopefully under twenty-five hold because if I die running story of heart, if I die, that is resting," so we decided to continue sleeping with such impunity that gives you sleep at three in the morning. The building withstood the next day, when we met Frida, who came to pick us up to begin our exploration was the theme of the morning while they were taking those addictive coffee company that having now, I do not know what magic of marketing, fashion and human stupidity, shops scattered throughout the five continents.

"First to the north," said Frida and there we saw a few houses. Beautiful all of them priceless, too. "We know where to look for a house when you appointed vice president," I said as if trying to explain to our amiable guide that not all "expat" have unlimited budget for rent (why the gringos love acronyms and abbreviations? I have no idea, but between pin vip, fyi asap and I have a salad on the head).

Comprehensive, friendly Frida next day took us to the center, beautiful apartments but useless when you want to move with three dogs and cocky scandalous that, in addition to threatening to cause endless complaints from neighbors were at risk of suicide in depressed until such one hundred-odd square meters of modern impunity after having walked through the gardens of patients who endured her parents, stoic, almost a year of barks, howls and complaints of the trio of abandoned quadrupeds, as I recall, my mother left him slightly redecorated garden with travel. Of course, as this explanation alone can be embarrassing (I understand that our concerns can outrage doggy more than one, although I confess that I did not cause the slightest remorse), there was always blaming the family library and more than seventy boxes of books went through there in a forgotten warehouse moth-eaten Lima pending "address", a prerequisite for Customs allowed the shipment at the port of Callao.

After the tour of the center, the third and last day of our trip was busy visiting a number of houses in the south, or far above, or were too expensive, or had no garden, or had few quarters, or were too old, or were neglected or whatever it was just left on the list, after an exhausting day, a couple of possibilities, a nice house (small but beautiful garden and acceptable) in the traditional neighborhood of San Angel and another holiday cottage combined with postmodern house, minimal and very practical, however, was by the Desert of the Lions, long avenue which is fed by other avenues long, not wide, and some streets cobbled very nice for a vacation but ill-suited to deal with traffic in the city that starts at six o'clock and ends, hopefully, after ten at night.

That evening, sitting in the hotel restaurant was a long discussion, this is cute, but is expensive, this is not safe, but the neighborhood is beautiful, that those we serve, but it is far, yes, no , maybe, we'll see, I'm tired, I'm tired, I live in the hotel, not silly, that dogs, that the books, which are to be come, which are many, yes , no, maybe again and so on until finished dessert, dinner indigestion, digestion impossible these more than two thousand feet to my stomach and my blood pressure coastal fickle, we slept for early the next day way back (This obsession with "saving days" to end sentencing him to a bad sleep, walk all the way to lose half zombie and then a whole weekend recovering sleep).

returned to Miami, the city without soul who stayed (old story) and the path of negotiations followed, again for reasons, reasons against, read descriptions of the houses, located barely mishandling the "Guide reddish "(indispensable survival guide in Mexico City), considering, reconsidering, insistence, withdraw, choose, decide. We agree that the cottage, small, never mind, we settled in the garden for the dogs, which was not very safe but the neighborhood is good, that, San Angelo, yes, that is, well, the best, that's it, is ours. Met off the plane, the airport is huge and lacks human warmth, is messy and it seems, has not a single store in operation if you arrive too late or too early and look at you, those who only yesterday were migrants and now wear uniforms , with passion and confidence, lest you want to stay. Finished the odious customs procedures and immigration, standing on dry land again, and while we were in the "transfer" from the airport to the office where we rented the car arrived, the hateful, essential and wonderful "Blackberry" by Ella, e short of our friend Frida: "Sorry, the San Angel house was already rented."

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THING HERE AND THERE JUST WRITE

In Mexico, "home" means "my house", so if you move around here and somebody says "this Saturday dinner all at home" is not one that wanders confianzudo inviting relatives to your house and your expense, no, that will mean a meal at home, "it's your house," and you're invited. A friend of a friend what happened, they said "this Saturday dinner at home" and she hid the surprise that the "where Rome do as the Romans do" and he thought it was fashionable in these lands, the new in the neighborhood had to put the house, food, drink and dance in the name of good living, so convinced her husband not to send to roll everyone "abusive", was busy, managed the house, made a delicious meal, bought several bottles of a fine wine and the best tequila, and was prepared with the same emotion as that of someone going to the quince to the eldest. Night came, the clock struck eight, nine, ten in the night!, And did not reach any of the dozen people who were to attend. Annoyance, anger, disappointment, "Look how they make fun of us" and other comments uncontrollable now husband, until the phone rings, "where are they not come?", "How do you where?, at home, waiting with dinner served ... "," with dinner, "but if we are at home", "No, not", "how we are not, if we are all here, at home, if I see", "beyond ? "," yes, at home, "" my house is this "," yes, of course, but this house, my house is also your home " and after the twister, apologies, and clarifications of nervous laughter, the couple got up, put everything in pots and left to spend a special evening at the home of neighbors, of course, not theirs, but somehow was, now and forever "home."

In Mexico, people flee to polarization, to extremes, to the irreconcilable positions, everything is in Mexico, José Antonio taught me, my teacher in semiotics villager, "yes, but no", that is, a most of our grandparents inheritance English that made famous the "America the law is obeyed but not satisfied ", ie, it is no law and, of course, is the law, and who denies it, and who fight, who is complaining, who protest, nobody or almost nobody, is accepted as that" this should be " or because it is "good" or "just like that (and this itself is peruvian as" Aquisito-no-more "), but that does not mean, should not mean, who would think that means that there to apply it to the letter, or that you were a fan, a graduate. Thus we live in a beautiful nebula, more or less protected, more or less real, more or less tangible, which all reach a kind of "perpetual check" where things do not back down but of course, not moving, not worse, but obviously do not improve, do not rise or fall completely, do not arrive or depart definitely are not and are ambivalent, consistently and indefinitely, if we understand (or no).

In Mexico, "eat", no lunch, so if someone says, "I invite you to eat" and arrive at eight in the evening (you, newly arrived from lands where, as in ours, it "eats "night and" lunch "at noon), do not be surprised that the host looks at you with a face and bring a bad impression of yours" because we are tardy, but not much. " In addition, lunch (good!), Eat very late, why in the tourist city restaurant owners live congratulations. Open very early to give the tourists early riser breakfast between six and ten, at that time, when foreign and filled the stomach, reach the local Mexicans, that "breakfast" in the top ten in the morning and one in the later. When they are removed outsiders, especially the Americans, are already reaching the promenade or the morning meeting and feel they are "Tardis" for lunch (yeah, yeah, "eat") because they usually do "in America (Like south of the Rio Grande began Mars) at noon. At the time that most latecomers foreigners leave the room, happy coincidence, as are the two or three in the afternoon and began to arrive early descendants of Cuauhtémoc, the more hungry, because in Mexico "come" to that time and it is not uncommon to pass by a restaurant at four in the afternoon and at that time to see how newcomers to lunch and, again, history repeats itself, the local paid leave their desks at five or six which is the time in which the Yankees have dinner, then to the back nine p.m. Mexicans and stay until you close the kitchen or politely kicked out because "we're going to close."

In Mexico, I had never seen before, you can buy roses any time you have been waiting in vain to end this meeting in the office, why?, Because in the south of the city there are flower stalls , served by friendly people, who never close, I have been there at three in the morning and your lights are on, as if to say to customers "do not worry, sir, if you forget the gift and he was late, here we are, if you arrived at dawn to travel and want to surprise, here we are. " My "Caserita" (this term is not defined here) is called Naomi, and their position is 19, their prices are reasonable (reasonable prices are there in Mexico?) and flowers "during eight days" (well, almost always, but Roses weekend I have planted a human and as certainly as reasonable as the Poor Thomas made famous by that of "eyes videtus, palpatus manus", or at least that's what my dad said he warned the doubting saint of Nazareth but I must confess, my father, whose humor and grace as I now seem unique, pronounced the sentence that blew up in situations, say, more pedestrian-).

In Mexico, the avocado does not exist, but there are some real good avocados (which on good account, is the same), almost as good as the "avocado tip" selling the brown one in the Avenida Ricardo Palma, Miraflores, there beside the Chinese restaurant next to it that I do not know what local bank. Once I knew his name (the lady's not the bank that I do remember but I do not write so I will not accuse you of doing subliminal advertising) was the same weekend was the small market that was assembled there, in that section of the Sea, where it is now fashionable and the cevichería versus "Las Delicias", the best place in Peru to have a delicious passion fruit and tangerine juice or a cherimoya with lucuma, delight, as the name of the place worthy of the most refined palates. In this market, which was later vacated because the custom of the weekend market (the flea markets or farmers' market flooded Mexican delegations all the capital from more modest neighborhoods to the most worshipful) is already, as almost Lima all the old customs, activities endangered (modernity, supermarkets and unfair competition, which they say).

In Mexico, in short, all respond with a "send", so different from the "what" or "do want" my father hated so much. A "send" which is undoubtedly a remnant of colonial times, but which is now deprived of any content that involves submission or subordination, just means "excuse me" or "repeat" or, more accurately, "you know, I did not understand, speak clearer." Just as "water!", A term probably inherited from the equally famous "water go" of the English Middle Ages, when housewives warned bystanders who were throwing out the window and color the water content of the pan, now serves to say "beware!" or "go with caution," or more accurately "if you look, you're going to take a madrazo" (and that of the reference the holy mother and a thousand meanings and derivations, is a subject of study as long and thorny, as inseparable from the Mexican soul, yet I dare not venture in those valleys).

Can I Shower After I Wax?

to thank

was born in a September afternoon in the South
when time is spring, encourages
when the sun rises
tired and lazy, so much nap.
I had peace, I love, I had family,
my mother was brave and good woman,
my father was a good man and brave
both gave me determination and strength.
I was lucky to have brothers and have never missed
fights
we still a body that defends
loyal and supportive, their borders.
I had a childhood like any other,
between fantasy and the unconscious;
remember playing a kid tough
hands of my grandmother.
We, sometimes, wine and meat, sometimes kiss
poverty
time I walked in many years
car and had to go on foot or by bicycle.
I like everyone, I was like no other,
never accompanied me good and I point
by chatty and distracted,
a common complaint of teachers.
I saved the notes, figures, numbers
honoring my notebook, though I
bored me like a mushroom
to "ma-me-mi-mo-mu" and nagging! I grew
far more than they should
and soon began with dieting,
with sweets banned, pasta
"you should not eat, because you raise."
I said "walk" and walking
shared parks, plazas and sidewalks,
first with my father and suddenly
old girls who are absent.
boldly, victories and failures, I

serene through adolescence and I knew that love wears sometimes
of that friend who has nice legs.
I was with friends who
retain the best, without urgency,
went through the same challenges and share
tears and stones. Women met
the time,
a rent, some for sale, and said

lie after lie just for a kiss, what innocence!
We play it all in the game
-that everything is nothing when it starts, "
and started a path
us slowly, without even thinking.
When you're young never gets the time, it does not matter
summer or spring,
is moving forward without turning back the face, no wonder
things that are left.
never knew if I was in love,
if they were illusions or fireflies,
if any of the many dropouts
could be called love, for sure. However
the
nobody wanted as there may never in his love them, others took
caresses,
I stole his faith, simple and first.
One day I wrote a few words
to what was then the most beautiful,
anyone knew it, began to laugh,
and since then say, "is a poet."
studied law for five years,
am bachelor of law-no offense-
decided not to exercise while
knew that justice was for sale.
I became a teacher because the twentieth
poor teacher pay is good,
and saw the light of so many
tied after the ferocity of a folder. They learned
desire, courage,
courage and will, I learned them;
my students give life to my life and joy unexpected
immense.
I have also published some books that few read
patiently
and I discovered that life has
some truth and much of the novel.
I have a woman beside me there
on the waves of any story,
with a simple and generous soul,
with passion, will and intelligence.
I have a country that is not limited to vulgarity
flags
and a city without a heaven to which
strange because she was born, and she expected.
I have family, friends, freedom,
I have three dogs and a library, a beating heart
yet
a dream, an emotion and a poem.
I owe so much to so many who were guides
, arms, sentinels, and I am a bad payer
, I apologize, I was always clumsy
canceling debts.
Life is a beautiful
nonsense and making sense of it rises,
comforts us, gives us
perpetuates and redeems us from our miseries. Just
write
to thank everyone, for your time and patience, because they are complicit
in
miracle of love and love and who love me.

Skates For Flat Narrow Feet

VIVA MEXICO!

Beyond any unpleasant experience with some gendarmes, Mexico is its people and its people are friendly, sympathetic, affectionate. While it is too early to talk about dear friends, is not to say that, after the introductions, you can find warm and friendly people willing to give a hand to advise where to buy, you walk through the labyrinthine streets of DF or simply , explain the best way to prepare some chiles rellenos.

Michelle and Luis are our neighbors. We live, "wall medium", in the same condo and are extremely cordial and friendly people. When we were invited to his house "to give the cry" (and do not think atrocities), I found a fascinating opportunity to witness how Mexicans celebrate their national holidays.

What marks September 15 is the beginning of the revolutionary process that started with the anti-Bonapartist movement led by the famous priest Hidalgo in the town of Dolores, when it alerted by the wife of the Corregidor, the famous conspirator Josefa Ortiz de Domínguez, hastened to implement the plans discovered seditious and in the mass of dawn on 16 September 1810, urged the people to take up arms with the cry "Viva la Virgen de Guadalupe!, down with bad government!, live Fernando VII! "(because that's" Viva Mexico!, repeated three times or the very famous "Death to the Spaniards!" were added later, as "Mexico" only so named after independence and the proclamation of independence was not a priest but contrary to the Napoleonic invasion of Spain). All this I found out surfing the Internet to not get completely uninformed of the meeting promised to be, Michelle told us, very exciting.

not mistaken. In the house would be half a dozen families and a dozen children from a few months and fourteen years, all residents of the same place. Puberal were there, making a mess impressive, coming and going, running, the boys playing football in the playground, the girls doing choreography with some songs I did not know. I was impressed see all the girls dressed in traditional costumes, some of "Chinese Puebla" others "Adelita" (the legendary hero of the Mexican Revolution).

The meeting was lively, one of those neighborhood meetings where everyone brings something, all carry over and there is food, beverages and alcohol for the next three weekends. The hours passed between the teenager sound of music and talks so loudly that we held between adults and revolving worthy of the date, between the political and historical themes, seasoned, of course, by gossip and the latest occurrences farandulesca within the condominium. After the "Snacks" of law (which here are called "snacks") heard the mellifluous song of siren Michelle announcing "pass at the table, the food is ready" and begin to taste a variety of Mexican dishes (a topic which I take care another time).

We were in full fatigues food when someone said "are now five to eleven" and, as if it were a military order, they all stood up and walked towards the TV that was in a sitting room where up to a minute ago fewer boys were boys do not know what channel that broadcast strident music videos. Changed to another which showed the transmission Live from "the base", the main square of Mexico City, crowded, colorful, full of light and Mexican flags and thousands of people huddled in front of the presidential palace.

All were awaiting the appearance of the president. The honor guard was on his quest, the president went to meet the military and, after the usual greetings, the commanding general of the Mexican army, he took the banner-wielding guard and walked steadily toward a balcony. In the room where we were was respectful silence around the TV we were all we had gone there and nobody, not the smaller, said nothing, staring enraptured how the president came out to meet people who overflowed the square.

He faced the audience and repeated the speech that is historically true or not-has been repeated by all Mexican presidents for decades. The speech that in every square of the republic is also released by the governors and mayors, the speech that is pronounced in embassies anywhere in the world and in any place where a group of Mexicans gather in the name of their homeland. Each of the three "Viva Mexico!" Campaign launched by President echoed in the room where I was, multiplied by all the shouting in unison, large and small. Band immediately began playing and the "Mexicans, at the cry of war" filled the room, there was the sound that came from the television speakers, no, it was Mexico's national anthem sung so loudly, proudly, for all I accompanied him there and, as "the roar of cannon," which is mentioned in the letter, the song washed over everything and it was all adults and children, invaded by a fervor that unfortunately never saw in my country, singing with the same enthusiasm, with the same enthusiasm, with the same love for their homeland. When the president, who only sang the first verse was removed in room where I heard my neighbors with excited surprise, all continued to sing the anthem with reverence and respect, with force and courage, without fear or shame. Only at the end, when it was time that the president had left the podium, someone gito "Viva Mexico!" Again and they all responded.

And nothing else, the night went like all but my eyes could no longer be the same. I was surprised and admired the fervor that saw not only in all the plazas of Mexico through television, but there live, where I was surrounded by ordinary people who, leaving aside their political differences, they felt that night and, above all things Mexican.

What is the boundary between the identity and fanaticism, where do you draw the line that separates those who are proud of who they are for those who kill because they think they are the only thing that can be? I do not know, just know that that night I witnessed a celebration of harmony, affection, love of country and respect for tradition, these ancient traditions, at the end of the day we are as members of a community.

Yes, maybe tomorrow we will all live proud to be sons of the soil and siblings of the same life-ephemeral but wonderful-that touches us, maybe tomorrow the borders are only bad memories and patriotic hymns are replaced by a great song that binds us together as members of the same human community, maybe. Meanwhile, in the midst of dark times, when solidarity has become a dirty word, see the love and pride Mexicans gathered around its history, has been an unforgettable experience.

Waxing Ottawa Reviews

IS AGAINST THE LAW IF I AM CITIZEN

The guy who called me was very unfriendly, but let's be honest, it was the face of who really is a miserable, it was the good guy in uniform by necessity or chance which complexes are many who believe that if makes the gesture of a grumpy gendarme constipated and not be respected. Well, not without reason in this society, ours, which have white skin and six feet deep voice immediately makes you "doctor" or "engineer", whereas five feet tall, sallow skin and Andean small voice of lament, is likely to be told " Hey you "," boy "or anything else that you reduce to pawn or concierge. We

the mysterious door close on the opposite side to the "waiting room", as euphemistically called the cell without bars where we had "retained." After the threshold I met a bureaucracy, gray, off, where are there are so willing to work like us to stay at the checkpoint forced. There were a few desks, papers everywhere, the odd computer, printer scandalous, cell types and in uniform, faced heads, officers, if those taking decisions there.

I approach one of the desks, the subject is sitting there does not make the slightest gesture, and I remain standing while the guard who accompanied me leaves me and goes who knows where and the officer continues fingering roles including I can see my passport. Absorbed in his research, totally ignoring me for several minutes for me, put in your hands at that moment, is eternal. The subject is rereading papers as if it were something really important, open and close my passport, checked my visa, all one by one, like someone suspicious, like someone trying to find in the middle of stamps, dates and signatures, the error demonstrate that I am an illegal immigrant who wants to use his country as a springboard into the American dream. Futile task of uniformed poor, would have sufficed to ascertain to what flight had arrived and understand that it would be difficult to come to Florida to land in the Federal District, take a bus and go, by force to destroy my battered back, almost two thousand kilometers from the capital of the northeast and there hire a coyote that a few thousand dollars swindled me telling me that it will cross the border and leave me for fat, and slow, tired, in the middle of the Sonoran desert to die dehydrated.

The truth is that the minutes seem endless but I resist, stoic, stand without giving in to fatigue in my legs and fatigue of my hard-working poor knees makes walking so much in making my humankind. I stand, waiting for the resolution of the subject in front of me, sheltered by the metal desk, his badge, his uniform and walked around several guards watching. As it is not hard to imagine, my mood was, by now slightly vinegary. Tired, exhausted and, especially, hungry, they were not neurons but gastric juices, which began to hold the reins of my character. By this afternoon I cursed my foolish decision to start my umpteenth diet just for the trip. "A little juices and two toast," I said this morning, "get to Mexico City shortly after two and before three I'll be having lunch, in addition, it is good to go with a full stomach to match, and of course and was past five and was still there looking at the nape of the uniformed determined to not know what my research papers. Impatient now, I interrupted:

"Excuse me, officer ...
(silence)

-Official ... (silence)
- Lord!
(the keeper slowly rising as the eyebrows in disbelief that I had dared to raise the tone)
-Official Is something wrong?, I have more than three hours here and my papers are in order.
"Well, that's what I decide ...
" Certainly, just ask him to take into account the time that has elapsed ... "Here
all serve well, do you have a complaint?
"Beyond the lost hours, the discomfort, the problem that means ...
" Do not follow, not follow, I'm finished with you ...
(silence, now mine)
"I'll do you a favor ...
(silence)
" Because there is an irregularity ...
- A blip?
"Well, you have two visas and that's against the law of the land, if I let go with both visas would be committing a crime and could even lose both visa and be deported ...
(silence)
- ... so I have to cancel the tourist.
"Well, is your country, are your laws, you decide.
"Yes, I decide, but I wanted to understand ...
-Gazette, what I understand or not is irrelevant.
"Well, true.
"Proceed, because my bags are thrown do three hours somewhere in the airport and did not know who will be responsible for losses ...
" In the airport your luggage is very safe, do not hesitate ...
(silence) "We're

professional ... (silence)
-proceed to cancel the visa of tourist ...
(silence) And you can


out ... Then I saw how my precious tourist visa for five years and multiple entries was crossed by the vulgar red ink a pen that the subject had in his hands, or a seal, or an explanation nor anything, only two crossed lines crossed over the visa, as if he had a six bored in a holiday afternoon.

I said nothing, kept an angry silence and let me drive through the aisles to the door where, abandoned, carelessly, placed side by side a corner, I found my bags.

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SPANISH ...

Nothing more distressing to be stopped at an airport in charge of migration without further explanation that a "please attach the guard." You ask the uniformed what happens and it responds with such creepy ranging from evasive "and you will be informed" to "is a issue that I can not deal with you "and so we walked to a door leading to another door that is guarded by armed guards faces other impost try to look respectable or fearful below (actually" up ") of such uniform remind me of my childhood chocolate strolling around the neighborhood with its trucks and the unmistakable sound of the trumpet announcing ice in summer, and cookies and chocolates and sweets in the winter. Although the badges and boots do not help much, so many weapons around one begin to generate some hives but no way, not much to do about it. "Wait a moment" and suddenly, you find yourself in front of a dozen subjects as confused as you on that, as I infer, have told the same "wait" not "one time" has nothing because, as I understand the conversation that has the cleavage to Colombia is seeing Australian you do to get your selling pharmaceuticals, both have been there for two hours (and still does not get his number?, if reversed, the Colombian not only have the number of Australia but also would masajito and giving "for stress").

The place we so kindly confined (dry would be the guards their ways, but educated as well) was a rectangular room with three walls of brick and consists of a large window with thick glass, very thick, almost say shielded. Two of the walls, the two long paths had gates, into one, which I entered, the number of guards guarding it, on the other, by entering the migration agents, a series of plates and locks which could only be activated from the other side. Through the glass, forming a small wall, saw it as "others", the rest, the lucky ones, passed immigration control and headed to the same place where abandoned our bags should lie down and ready to be forwarded, with us, the place of origin if the authorities decided that "no, sorry, can not enter the country, does not comply with the required documentation, join me, please", as I heard tell a uniform bound for a Venezuelan who was there with us and it continued to claim, demanding "to see his boss" and mentioned something about "asylum" before they did not listen more because he disappeared behind the mysterious door that led, as I learned later, the immigration offices.

Around me stood the United Nations, there were people of varied nationalities, I discovered that the passage of minutes, either listening to talk, when they did it in my language or the other I mean stumbled, or whether indiscreetly sniffing among the papers all had held between the fingers as the pass that will free them from war or tags that airlines placed in hand luggage.

Two Senegalese to understand them a couple of "GUI, GUI" and some other "merci" they said, were well dressed, very modern clothes, stylish and brand names (at least one wearing a green Lagartito Printed in black T-shirt under the jacket looked white cassock newly consecrated priest), and animated conversation, without looking at the surroundings, like someone is having a coffee at "The Pendulum" Polanco (magnificent library) without much trouble, worry, and wanting to prolong the evening until it passes rain. Talked and talked without stopping, but they were not alone.

A three or four meters were a couple of Peruvians, let my land unmistakable me know they were fellow countrymen. Greeted them with a gesture, from a distance, but I responded, looked askance at me, looked at everyone with suspicion, spoke a mixture of Castilian and Quechua and could barely understand a word, "contact" "Friend", "fix", "N", enough to infer that my fellow citizens had no intention of staying in the land of Pancho Villa, but, as it once did the revolutionary leader, tried to cross the border and "encroach "the north country. Apparently something had gone wrong in the chain of cheating visas and forged documents because they had good times there and were concerned printed on the face.

Soon came a group of Chinese (that I knew by the cover of a book that had one of them with garbled characters to Westerners and their four golden stars on a red background surrounding a bigger star), most were scared face, looked puzzled and spoke softly, not looking at anyone else, do not know who would, seem, for the taken and age, young workers, workers, technicians on any system. The truth is that lasted little place a few minutes later a guard came along with an eastern wearing a fine suit, would the consul, the ambassador, the entrepreneur who brought them to work?, And asked them all papers that one, the more nervous, was slow to find in the chaos of his briefcase full of papers, books and clothing. The accompanying oriental the officer said something and went back five minutes later and spoke again to the group who smiled in unison. Everyone grabbed their bags and left.


For there appeared a most unusual type, small, flat, without actually dwarf, thin, with hair like new in hair, clothes that bordered on the bizarre and with a roll in his hand. That is, a holder, like those used by students of architecture. He looked angry, fierce, angry, without a hint of concern and a great show of being about to make a fuss. Beside him was a Caribbean, I never knew if it was Panama or Costa Rica but said both countries in the middle of the talk in which he sailed with the indignant. The deliciously contrasting moods, the hairdresser cut burning with indignation and the other sitting on his briefcase, relaxed, quietly smoking a cigarette, even the sign "No Smoking" useless glistened on his head. The Caribbean was a tourist, "I always confuse with Cubans," said for any explanation and the other began to curse because "I do not know what the hell I listened to John and I came with the Cuban passport if I am a English citizen ..." , was a painter, lived in Florida, the air was escaping when he spoke and John, the of bad idea, a partner. In the paper holder has been "very important" paintings of his that he was going to expose "as a favor" to not know what Mexican Museum, "because I usually explain in Europe." I was very distracted

amid claims the artist so I did not realize that three hours had passed until my knees, and colleagues tested adventures kilos, began to remind me that, "for reasons of weight," it was best to quit my Spartan stoicism and sit in the first chair that some distracted vacate or in the frozen soil for several slab where they were. You will understand sit on my briefcase was a possibility ruled out of hand, was new and not given to support overhead. That led me to think about my options for stand ground in one motion and without too much scandal ...

"dignity or knees?" Was the dilemma in which I was when I opened the door and said my name ...